


Routine Ruined

by Syntherapsidae



Category: Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: Autism, Autism Spectrum, Implied autism?, Sensory Overload, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 16:11:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21376888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syntherapsidae/pseuds/Syntherapsidae
Summary: Elliot's weekly bowling alley visit is disrupted by Milo and friends.
Kudos: 17





	Routine Ruined

**Author's Note:**

> Rushed, not edited, just a thing I kinda vomited onto the internet. Keep that in mind when judging pls

Danville Lanes was one of the few places Elliot Decker could say he didn't feel unwanted. At the present moment, he was finishing up the sixth frame of today's second and final game. For a good while now, he'd been visiting the alley every Thursday at four, playing a game, having something to eat - often a slice of pizza, but not always - then playing another game, then heading home at five. It'd become a routine, something stable and predictable. Of course, Elliot was 19, probably a good forty years the junior of the next patron of the establishment here... but does it matter much? The visuals were pretty constant and weren't overbearing; the sound of bowling balls hitting the lanes was softened by chatter and machinery and diluted music over the loudspeakers, all of which came together to form something of a pleasant drone that his brain could succeed at tuning out; even the _smell_ of the place was comfortable somehow. This place acted sort of as a shelter from sensory overload.

A voice Elliot recognized made its way over to him. Something was off, though -- like it... didn't belong? It wasn't part of the surroundings he was familiar with here...

His eyes widened; he dropped into his seat, he clenched his teeth, he put his head between his knees and he put his hands over his head. It was _h i m_. No, no, not the brat not Milo please not him. One, two, three, four -- breathe -- one two three four - breathe - onetwothreefour _breathe_. Something touched his arm, he smacked at it. Milo'd touched him. "Get _off_ of me!" The girl with Milo said something to the effect of "the hell's wrong with you, _Elliot_?" Mocking him, it felt like. Must be.

"You... none of you get it! You just...!" He hesitantly packed up his things -- he wasn't done yet with his game! - but you can't stay here, _he_'s here! - but- forget it! it's ruined - yeah... -- and leaves, mood ruined. Somewhere along his walk home, he knew, cognitively, that he should go back and apologize immediately, but he... he just _c__an't_. Not in this state.

God... what the fuck was wrong with him?


End file.
